


I know you were way too bright for me

by Celty_chan



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Anna Lightwood is so hot, Chaotic bissexuals, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Matthew Fairchild deserves nice things, Maybe COI spoilers at some point, No idea how long this will be, Time Travel Fix-It, Would never guess my first story in here would be about being in love with MAtthew Fairchild, i want him to be happy, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:27:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29990433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celty_chan/pseuds/Celty_chan
Summary: Reader has been in love with her sad yet bright best friend for six years when he suddenly dies. She gets a chance to see his smile once again and the first thing she knows, she's in a different body, in a different room, and in a different century. And there he isOrFalling in love with Matthew Fairchild in all its painful glory.(A little bit based on "The first night with the duke" (The concept, I mean)
Relationships: Alastair Carstairs/Thomas Lightwood, Anna Lightwood/Reader, Ariadne Bridgestock/Anna Lightwood, Cordelia Carstairs/James Herondale, Jesse Blackthorn/Lucie Herondale, Magnus Bane/Matthew Fairchild, Matthew Fairchild & James Herondale, Matthew Fairchild/Reader
Kudos: 3





	I know you were way too bright for me

It hurt her badly.

She had been through grief before but never like this, it felt like life wasn’t anymore. And in a somber way, it seemed reasonable that it felt like that, he was the most alive person she had ever met, the sun of every good day and the understanding smile no one else could give. He made living better, not easier, he had put all of them through so much trouble, but so much better.

_ “How can you not be dancing?” He had asked her, just two days before. She looked at him, fair hair rustled, smile bright, and suddenly could not find in herself to answer. (She was not dancing because a moment before he hadn’t been there, to remind her of it.) _

_ “Rather easily, I’m afraid. The dancefloor doesn’t look charming tonight, and everyone seems to agree.” That was nearly the truth, nobody was dancing before he came to the living room, changed the music on his phone, and made everyone get up with a cheerful look. “We have class in a few hours, you shouldn’t drive them into dancing.” She knew her smile betrayed her words. _

_ “We only have class if we attend.” She rolled her eyes at him, no bite to it. “Now, come dance with me.” She went, as always, easy to him, malleable at his hands. She asked herself again if he knew how she felt, if he could hear the deafening sound of her heart against her ribcage. _

_ “Worried your hangover will be too severe to show up?” He tensed slightly and she bit her tongue, regretting the comment. He eased into comfort again and held her closer. _

_ “I’m not.” She raised her eyebrows at the small hint of bitterness on his tone. “Not worried at all.” _

She should have known. Something was not right that night and when the morning came, he didn’t do the same. Drinking and driving they said, but anyone who knew him did not believe it to be that simple, the sudden party, the sudden handshaking, the pills they started to see around his flat. How could she claim to have been in love with him when she hadn’t noticed all the signs?

Now light would never come to be again.

She would go anywhere, do anything, to see him smile again.

The next day she woke up with that chance.

  
  
  
  
  


**Chapter 1**

_**I’m suddenly in a different century** _

She woke up in the wrong place. Maybe sadness had wounded her mind more deeply than she had anticipated, maybe she should take some time off of school, she certainly would understand English literature a lot less if her brain kept rotting.

Her best friend died.

He drank himself to death on his birthday after ghosting all of his friends for a month.

She snickered, at the cruel joke the world had revealed itself to be. She wanted to tell him that night, that night she believed things would go back to normal, that night he danced with her until her feet hurt, she wanted to let him know that she loved him as hard as he didn’t love himself. Which was an awful lot.

But she didn’t, and she would never get a chance to see him pretend to not know. He knew, of course, he was the most sensitive out of all of their friends, he always knew when someone needed a hug, a pat on the back, a bad pun, or a kiss on the cheek. So perhaps he had known all along in what rhythm her heart hammered and had been too gentle about it.

She wished to say it nonetheless because he probably never expected her to, she wished she showed the both of them she had some hidden courage in her. (She hadn’t been brave in the end, neither of them had)

Suddenly a knock on her door, and the grim reminder that this wasn’t her room. The small corner of the dorm she occupied was nothing like these cream walls and tall ceiling monstrosity, the windows were bigger than her small bed was, she supposed, bathing the entirety of the space with sunlight. And the bed she currently sat in was definitely four times bigger than what she was used to.

Maybe she had gotten herself wasted and fucked a rich heir? Or perhaps she had died? The possibilities were limitless.

“Milady, please let me in, we need to get you ready for the day!” She decided there was no point in delaying it and got up to open the door to a small and wrinkled lady.

“Good morning.” She saluted warily.

“For the angel, please undress quickly, they’re on their way.” Behind her, a maid came into the room with a little cart full of breakfast. The little woman opened closets hurriedly while by the door, the alleged milady ate half the plate, nearly scaring the maid. “What are you doing?”

“I’m starving, sorry.” Her stomach sang for her to eat another french toast. “Those are delicious.”

“Milady, please.” The maid whispered to her, worried. “You shouldn’t eat like that before getting into your corset.” She chuckled.

“I won’t be getting into a corset.” They starred at her, then exchanged a look. “I’m pretty sure I can look decent without one, and if I can’t, as unlikely as that sounds, is not a big deal.” Their eyes looked terrified now. The young pretty maid behind the breakfast cart looked like she might cry.

“Enough of this nonsense, you are too young to say such degenerated things.” The little woman complained.

“I’m old enough to have a say in how I dress.” She stated, sitting back on the bed. “I don’t mean to be rude but I would rather you remind me of what I have to do today than pick my clothing.” The small gray-haired lady looked filled with rage all of sudden.

“How dare you talk like that, child?! I know it’s been a very difficult month for you, but to behave like that is to embarrass your parents and give them no rest!” She lost her smile and felt a shiver run down her spine.

“What happened to my parents?” She asked, her voice trembling, and the servant lost any hint of rage. “Where am I?”

“Should we call a silent brother?” The younger maid asked, looking dismal. The little woman looked at her once more before nodding, sending her away, and sitting on the bed, asking for her hand to hold. She gave it, the warmth making her feel lost, less confident than she had been feeling before.

“You are a shadowhunter, my child. Your parents died last month, killed by a demon during a patrol. Your father’s family, the Penhallows of Beijing are coming today to see if they’ll take you in or send you somewhere else to be trained.” She didn’t understand a word. “Your mind was always fragile, we feared you would never be able to get out of bed after what happened to your parents.”

“I’m not who you think I am.” She pleaded, eyes desperate, her parents were fine, she had face-timed her mom the previous week, demons weren’t real.

“I’ve seen you grow for the past fifteen years, child. I know who you are.” She blinked, the understanding of her body settling in. Fifteen. It wasn’t surprising how her voice had sounded to her own ears.

“I beg you to let me leave, this is wrong, all of this is a big mistake.” The woman sighed.

“Wait till the silent brother gets here to see if your head is okay, we need you to make a good impression on your family, otherwise they will send you far away, to some unknown institute.” Again the woman spoke nonsense while despair clawed at her insides. “Can you imagine a girl as young as yourself all alone in an unfamiliar place?”

“This is a bad dream.” She whispered. Not even her body felt comfortable or familiar, it had been a long time she had been fifteen, nine years younger, and alone in a strange room, wearing clothes she hadn’t put on herself.

“He’s here!” The young maid came to warn, the small woman looked pleased.

“That was very fast! We seem to be lucky today.” She got up, cheerful. While the young girl curled up into herself on the bed.

“He said he had affairs to attend in the shadow market, and as soon as he was done he heard our call.” She gave the girl on the bed a sympathetic look. “Should I bring some food?”

“Don’t be silly, they don’t eat.” The maid shrugged.

“I know that, but he’s not alone.” They heard a knock. And the girl in the bed froze in terror as a voice entered her head.

_ I heard a very distressed shadowhunter here, may I see if she needs any help? _

Her fingers gripped the sheet, raw fear sipping through her body. The door opened to reveal a hooded figure, marks adorned his face, he looked like a statue, something no longer alive yet eternal, his eyes were closed and she felt a sharp certainty she’d never see them open in her lifetime. 

But the mysterious figure didn’t take her breath away, the small person behind him did. A boy her age with fair hair and green eyes that were painfully familiar, far more familiar than her own body.

“Math..?” It wasn’t his name, she realized as it began to leave her mouth. It wasn’t how she remembered his name had been before, how their teachers called him, she couldn’t remember the name that used to be his, and yet here he was. Younger and happier than she had ever seen him in the six years they had known each other. Matthew her mind told her, this is Matthew, Matthew, Oh Matthew. Even if called from a different name a rose still had the same perfume. She giggled when their eyes met and tears started blurring her vision. She passed out before she could tell him.

Before she could tell him his smile was beautiful.


End file.
